


but you don't have to take my word for it

by verity



Series: Venn Diagram [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/F, First Time, Genderswap, Hand Jobs, Oral Sex, Rule 63, Television Watching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-07
Updated: 2012-10-07
Packaged: 2017-11-15 21:48:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/532129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verity/pseuds/verity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Usually, Darcy looked like Lara Croft or Sarah Connor from pretty much any angle (even though Allison was the one who could field strip a crossbow in the dark in under two minutes), but in the dim light from the TV her unexpected smile seemed easy and affectionate. It was like looking in some bizarro fun-house mirror that you suddenly really wanted to make out with. </p><p>(cisf!Derek/cisf!Stiles; this is part of an ongoing series but can easily be read as a standalone)</p>
            </blockquote>





	but you don't have to take my word for it

**Author's Note:**

  * For [darthjamtart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darthjamtart/gifts), [figuline](https://archiveofourown.org/users/figuline/gifts).



> Thanks to clio_jlh for proofing and darthjamtart for encouragement! Any remaining errors are my own.
> 
> (This is set during Stiles's senior year of high school, so she's 18.)
> 
> monkeyscandance has done some super gorgeous art for this series, namely a scene from this fic - [check it out here!](http://monkeyscandance.tumblr.com/post/33370125415/ladyofthelog-commissioned-me-to-illustrate-her)

They were sitting on the couch in the Hale house, Stiles with her legs stretched out and feet tucked under Darcy's butt. Stiles was doing _actual work_ , which mostly involved highlighting and sticking post-its in one of Dr. Deaton's books. She wasn't sure what Darcy was doing, exactly; it looked like brooding and flipping channels, but usually Darcy went to Isaac's to do that because Isaac always had cookies and other things Stiles would not be getting off the couch to get for Darcy. Stiles wasn't Darcy's beta. She didn't have to do anything but research and let Darcy's butt keep her feet warm.

"Is that _Reading Rainbow_?" she said, lowering her book and watching LeVar Burton tie a camel to a parking meter. "Why is _Reading Rainbow_ on at 8pm?"

"I recorded it," Darcy said.

"On what, a _VCR_?"

"No." Darcy had gone all stiff and tight, pulling away from Stiles. Stiles knew what that meant. She put her book down on the back of the couch and doubled over so she could grab a fistful of Darcy's t-shirt before Darcy made a break for it. It was a new shirt; the fabric was rough and starchy under Stiles's fingers. 

"This is kind of gory for kids." Stiles tilted her head toward the screen. "I mean, they're pulling brains out with hooks and everything. I definitely don't remember this episode."

"What are you doing?" Darcy said. She tried to yank her shirt out of Stiles's grasp, but Stiles hung on tight. "Cut it out."

"Just watch your TV show, dude." Stiles pulled her feet out from under Darcy and scooted down the couch until her ass was planted against Darcy's thigh so she could toss her legs over Darcy's lap and let her feet dangle over the armrest. There was no way that she was going to get any highlighting or post-it-noting done like this, but that was okay: she could chill for an episode or two.

Except that it was harder than Stiles had thought it would be, relaxing when she was draped all over Darcy like this. She could feel Darcy radiating warmth through two layers of denim, and she was still hanging onto Darcy's shirt, her thumb brushing against the skin over Darcy's ribs. Darcy didn't seem to have relaxed much, but she was perfectly capable of dumping Stiles onto the floor if she wanted, so Stiles stayed where she was.

On screen, LeVar Burton was taking his mummy friend to get a CT scan. Was his camel was still tied up at the parking meter?

"This was my favorite episode when I was a kid," Darcy said. "The library had bags with the videos and all the books that you could check out together."

"I know," Stiles said, closing her eyes. "My mom made those."

A few minutes later, Stiles felt something brush against her cheek and then Darcy's hand was in her hair, brushing it shyly along the grain. It made Stiles's stomach go all hot and heavy, which was fucked up, because she was pretty sure they were just awkwardly comforting each other about dead family members and reliving their childhoods, at least, that was what she was doing. That was totally what she was doing, right. 

Darcy was still running her fingers through Stiles's hair while LeVar Burton talked in the background about mummified cats. Stiles loosened her grip on Darcy's shirt, but she left her hand where it was.

"Why do you come out here?" Darcy asked, voice pitched low. "To—work on stuff."

"Hey, you said that we could all come out here, that this was pack space. Unlike you, I don't just climb through people's windows uninvited. Unless they're Scott and he said that was okay when we were like seven, so that's _consensual_ window egress." 

"Ingress," Darcy said.

"Are you sure that's a word?" Stiles said.

"There's a Scrabble dictionary on the bookshelf if you want to check."

Stiles opened her eyes, preparing for vehement protest, but when she leveled her gaze at Darcy the words tripped over each other in her mouth. Usually, Darcy looked like Lara Croft or Sarah Connor from pretty much any angle (even though Allison was the one who could field strip a crossbow in the dark in under two minutes), but in the dim light from the TV her unexpected smile seemed easy and affectionate. It was like looking in some bizarro fun-house mirror that you suddenly really wanted to make out with. "Uh, I don't need to check, I believe you."

"Okay," Darcy said, stroking the side of Stiles's face.

She couldn't help it: she turned her face into Darcy's hand. Stiles hoped desperately that she smelled sweaty, or tired, or something that wasn't feelings and arousal, whatever that smelled like. Fuck, this was not good.

Her hand was still resting against Darcy's side. When Darcy shifted, Stiles's fingers flirted with the hem for a moment before sliding beneath it to the small of Darcy's back, and then Darcy arched into her touch, unmistakeable. Stiles was staring, she couldn't look away, at the curve of Darcy's lips and the swell of her breasts. It wasn't like she'd ever been in denial about how incredibly hot Darcy Hale was, but Darcy had slept in Stiles's bed in Stiles's fucking Tinkerbell pajamas and Stiles still hadn't—well, she hadn't known this was possible. Whatever this was. Mutually interested touching?

"Is this mutually interested touching? I need some clarification here," Stiles said. 

Darcy's hand stilled against Stiles's cheek. "Um."

"I'm interested," Stiles added. "Just to get that humiliatingly obvious fact out in the open. Very—"

"Shut up," Darcy said, and just like that she was pulling Stiles up into her lap, and Stiles was mashing her face against the side of Darcy's neck while her hands scrambled for purchase on the couch. Darcy exhaled sharply when Stiles rubbed her mouth against Darcy's shoulder, so Stiles bit her there, not too hard, and, yeah, Darcy was _definitely_ into that; she grabbed Stiles's arms, righted her, and leaned in.

Kissing was weird: it was like Stiles could feel everything in her body all at once, feel the breeze from the ceiling fan stir the hair on her arms and feel her flannel shirt bunch beneath her arms, but all she could focus on was Darcy, who nipped at Stiles's lower lip but let Stiles dive messily into her mouth, who trembled under Stiles like—like Stiles was someone who made people, well, tremble. "Hey, it's just me." Stiles pulled back and braced a hand on the back of the couch for a moment so she could straddle Darcy. "Is this cool?"

Darcy's mouth was red and bitten and for a moment Stiles was afraid she was going to say something like, _no, what the fuck are you doing._ "Yes. It's—you're—yes." Darcy put her hands at Stiles's waist. "You don't even—"

"Tell me," Stiles said.

Instead, Darcy shoved her hands up the back of Stiles's t-shirt, and they made out for a while on the couch like that. They could probably have made out for longer, except Darcy undid the clasp of Stiles's bra and pulled it down so she could palm Stiles's breasts beneath her t-shirt, and, yeah, they were wearing too much clothing, which was how they ended on the floor because pants are complicated.

"I can't believe you," Darcy said. She sounded pissed, but she was grinding down against Stiles's thigh and also naked, so Stiles found that hard to take at face value. "Are you always this—"

"Awesome?" Stiles kept rubbing her spit-wet thumb against Darcy's nipple, pushed up into the hand that Darcy kept trailing against her cunt. Her ability to follow conversation was not at an all-time high. 

Darcy bent her head down to Stiles's neck to bite Stiles with blunt human teeth. That hurt, but it was, fuck, _so hot_ , and then Darcy's fingers were rubbing against Stiles's clit in quick, intent circles. It wasn't like how Stiles touched herself, slow and deliberate as long as she could stand it, a finger or two working inside her, but her breath came short and she gave up on trying to get Darcy off for the moment because her hands were shaking and her thighs clamped around Darcy's hand and fuck, fuck, _fuck_.

"Stiles?" Darcy's wet fingers were drying cool on Stiles's belly.

Stiles blinked up at her for a moment; she was having a hard time telling what was post-orgasmic euphoria and what was just Darcy lying on top of her, naked, looking surprisingly patient. "Let me do you," she said, tracing the supple curve of Darcy's thigh.

"Okay." Darcy looked surprised when Stiles rolled them over, for some reason, and even more so when Stiles pushed herself down Darcy's body so that she could— "You don't have to do that."

"But I want to," Stiles said, squeezing Darcy's hip. "I mean, if you—"

"Okay," Darcy said again. "Sure."

The last two years had been an object lesson in the value of internet research when it came to real world experience, and this was no exception. At least Stiles had herself for general reference material. Darcy had haphazardly trimmed curls that held in her own musky smell, and she tasted sour but not unappealing as Stiles licked her way into her. She wasn't entirely sure she was aiming for the right place, but above her, Darcy was panting, and saying, "Jesus, Stiles, you're so—" so that was probably all right. It wasn't long until Darcy was digging her nails into Stiles's shoulder, leaving a neat row of half-moon bruises.

Overhead, the TV was still on, having moved from _Reading Rainbow_ back to Darcy's DVR queue. There was an infomercial running in the background. Stiles turned her head away from the light and pillowed it on Darcy's belly. They were both sticky and smelled like sex and Stiles was supposed to be home in an hour, but that was okay, because Darcy's hand was running through her hair again, and Stiles could stay like this forever, probably, or at least another ten minutes; she could try.

**Author's Note:**

> There's also a fanmix for this series now! You can see the tracks and download it [at tumblr](http://ladyofthelog.tumblr.com/post/32319156925/venn-diagram-a-darcy-stiles-mix-by-verity-why). (I'm **[ladyofthelog](http://ladyofthelog.tumblr.com)** over there, and post a mish-mash of fandom/whatever/rl stuff.)
> 
> "Mummies Made in Egypt," the _Reading Rainbow_ episode referenced in this story, is [available streaming on Vimeo](http://vimeo.com/6276436).


End file.
